Time Travel Tense Trouble
by Kirmon64
Summary: Meeting your ancestors is enough to make anyone's head spin. When you're a Cooper... well, it's a whole other ballgame. [Sly4 spoilers, obvs.]
1. Tennessee

I hope to eventually do a chapter for each of the ancestors, probably not in any particular order... this is Tennessee's, and I do have a concrete idea for Rioichi, just have to get it all written out.  
Please no spoilers for anything beyond Tennessee's chapter/episode, I haven't gotten much farther than that!

Do note, I tend to write the Sly universe as less... cartoony than it's shown in the games lol. (So y'know, language, bloodier sorts of violence, that kind of thing.)

Concrit is very much appreciated!

As a sidenote, Justin Cross' "Drink the Water" is basically the perfect song for my version of Tennessee, just sayin'.

o-  
o-

Bentley pulls Sly aside between missions, before he's even properly entered the safehouse. From across the room he can see Murray and Tennessee talking - something about the van and nitro and TNT and Sly imagines that is either going to end beautifully or catastrophically.

"Sly," Bentley says, voice pitched low, and Sly looks down at him. Bentley is usually serious, if he's not being sarcastic or panicky anyways, but this is... a little bit more serious. This is the _we are so fucked_ kind of serious, and Bentley has Sly's instant and full attention.

Bentley jerks his head and Sly goes back down the stairs - Murray and Tennessee haven't even noticed he's back yet - and Bentley hovers down after him. There's enough room at the bottom of the stairwell for Bentley's wheelchair, and Sly sits down on one dusty step, bouncing his leg. For the sake of his own nerves he really hopes this isn't one of Bentley's overreactions; he's gotten much better about that, but...

"How closely have you looked at Tennessee?" Bentley murmurs.

Sly blinks, doesn't know how to answer that. "What do you mean?"

"I mean he's been shot." Sly looks back up the stairs; Tennessee's voice carries down to them. He's giving Murray a run for his money where loudness is concerned. "And cut, and hit, and who knows what else. Multiple times. I haven't been able to examine him thoroughly, but he has scars all over him. Have you noticed that he favors his left arm? And he limps sometimes, too. You can hear it, because of his spurs."

"Well, it is the Wild West, isn't it? Plenty of shootouts around here." Even if Tennessee was kind of supposed to be a thief and therefore avoiding said shootouts.

"Frankly, Sly, he should be dead. When he was changing, I saw..." Bentley pauses, shakes his head, and Sly almost doesn't want him to continue. "He's been shot in the chest before - based on the positioning of the wound, I would guess that the bullet punctured his lung. With the primitive medicine they have available here, I don't know how he survived that. And have you heard him coughing? He's a smoker, I'm sure of it, and I'll bet my shell he's a drinker, too. The point is, he's too careless. He's going to get himself killed, and then all of history's gonna unravel."

"Because of us being here?" Sly finds that hard to believe, because he'd have _already_ been careless, if he's got scars, but then again. Time travel, paradoxes, the whole nine yards.

"Maybe. He isn't stupid; he knows you're from the future, and I think he believes that he can do whatever he wants because you're proof that he isn't going to die. His behavior is only going to get worse."

Sly sighs. Always had to be complications, didn't there? "So I have to talk him out of that."

"Please do. We already know history is changeable - the disappearing pages are proof of that. If he keeps going the way he is, we're gonna have way more problems than that." Bentley smiles, and leans forward to punch Sly's arm. "Don't want to lose my brother to something as stupid as alcohol poisoning."

o-

An opportunity presents itself, after Tennessee's gotten his gun back. Or his cane. Sly's not exactly sure what to call it. Tennessee is very, very pleased about it, however. Loudly so. It's somewhere between amusing and endearing.

(And it is _very_ strange to think that this master thief and master marksman is only seventeen years old. Sly wonders if this is how Bentley used to feel all the time, back when they were kids - like an exasperated older brother.)

There's only canned food in the van, and most of it is pretty tasteless. Sly doesn't mind it, but Tennessee apparently does, and he's taken it upon himself to go hunting. Currently he's perched atop the clocktower, humming to himself. Weird how he could be so patient right now but so reckless the rest of the time.

"Howdy, partner," Tennessee says as Sly climbs up beside him. "Lookin' to learn from the master?" He doesn't take his eyes off of the plains and plateaus beyond, waiting for... something. Something to shoot.

"No thanks, I think I'll leave the guns to you."

Tennessee makes a hmm-ing sound, and doesn't seem inclined to comment further. Sly is suddenly struck by how hard he is to read, how little he knows about this - this _kid_. The Theivius Raccoonus only tells so much.

"So where'd you learn to shoot?"

"Taught myself, mostly. It ain't hard. Bullets go in the boomstick, point the business end at whoever's done wrong, bullets come back out the boomstick. Simple stuff. Distance shootin', now, that's harder. Y'know that one Cooper fella who figured out how t'think quicker so everythin' moves slower? That meditatin' thing? Helps a lot."

Sly supposes that would make sense. He can't imagine using it like Tennessee does, but then he supposes shooting back in slow motion isn't much more difficult than just dodging the bullets. "Listen, Tennessee... I sorta need to talk to you about that. The Coopers, I mean."

"Yeah?"

"It's not like I'm... I don't know, your father or anything," and Tennessee snorts, and Sly wonders what their relationship had been like. "But seriously, you need to be more careful."

"Yeah?"

Monosyllabic, repeated replies: never a good sign. Sly tries to remember how Bentley dealt with him as a teenager. Tennessee can't be too much worse, right? "Just because I'm here doesn't mean anything. The future can still change. That's why we came back - your pages of the Thievius Raccoonus are blank. All I can assume is that that means you're going to be stuck in jail, or dead."

"Prob'ly the second one," Tennessee replies absently, chewing on his toothpick a little. "The posters say 'Dead Or Alive', but it's always to the rope or firin' squad, every time."

This could be going a lot better. Then again, it could be going a lot worse, too. "And that can't happen, Tennessee. Just because I'm here doesn't mean things can't go wrong. If the pages can be erased, I can too. Do you see what I'm getting at?"

Tennessee shrugs a bit. He doesn't seem angry, but... "So, partner. You're tellin' me... I ought to stop doin' anything at all, is that it? Hell, if I'm followin' your instructions, I prob'ly shouldn't even be pullin' off heists anymore. That's mostly where all the shootin' happens, it's not like I get in showdowns for the fun of it. You want me to become a hermit, is that it?"

Okay, this is definitely going badly. "No, I... listen, Tennessee, I can't really tell you how to live your life. It's not like I can make you do anything. I'm just asking you to think before you run in guns blazing. For your sake, too - I don't want you to get hurt. But it's not just your life, or even just my life. There's... things I've done that have saved a lot of people. They're counting on you, too." Sly sighs. "Sorry, shouldn't have said that. I guess that wouldn't matter much to you, huh? That's more than a hundred years from now."

Tennessee looks over at Sly and for a moment the eyes in that face are decades older than they should be.

"Tell you a secret, partner," and he looks away, drawing his gun up against his shoulder. Preparing to shoot - what, Sly doesn't know. He can't see anything out there. "I ain't ever made a difference to anyone in my life. Sure, I follow the Cooper Code. No reason not to. It don't mean that everybody's all buddy-buddy with me. I've got bruised an' beat more'n I can remember. Nearly got hung when I was ten, and that was just the first time. Nobody gives a rat's behind about ol' Tennessee Kid Cooper. Never once in my life."

There is a crack, and a faraway thud, and Tennessee grins. He looks young again - completely at odds with the words coming out of his mouth. He stands up, offers his hand, and Sly lets himself be pulled to his feet. "So's if it's only my great-grandkid an' his group o' plum loco buddies that care 'bout me, I reckon I better return the favor."

For a moment Sly wants to really play the part of big brother, wants to make sure things will be alright from now on, wants to beat the hell out of anyone who dares hurt him. For a crazy instant he wants to bring Tennessee with them when they go - wants to give him the medical help he needs, and the family he deserves. The family he should have had.

He can't actually do any of that, of course. He'll be here for maybe three or four days, and then Tennessee is alone again. Life is just... not fair. At all.

So smiles and says, "Thanks," and tries to put as much of it into his voice as possible. "Really. Thank you."

Tennessee grins and whaps him on the shoulder. "Anytime, partner. We Coopers gotta stick together, huh? Come on, let's go bag ourselves a rabbit. Stew's better'n that stuff you call 'food'. More like prison food, if you ask me."

"Rabbit stew, huh? Sounds good to me."


	2. Rioichi

I was considering doing something with the tradition/concept of shudō but this fits the theme so much better lul.

Galleth will probably be next~

o-  
o-

The safehouse is quiet when Sly steps in.

He expected that, of course. Bentley and Murray are out collecting fish, and Rioichi's quiet pretty much no matter what. Came with being a ninja. The problem is, this isn't the right kind of quiet. To use a cliched but oh-so-true phrase, it is _too_ quiet...

Sly shifts his grip on his cane and creeps forward. Worst-case scenarios flash through his mind - safehouse trashed, van stolen, Rioichi missing or dying or dead - god, Rioichi dead, how could they even begin to fix that...?

Turns out that the safehouse is not, in fact, trashed. The contents of the shelves and table are exactly where they were when he'd left, and the van's in its proper place, too, nestled in its nook. At first glance Rioichi appears to be missing, and Sly's stomach clenches at the thought of his being captured. _Again_. There is a joke about terrible ninjas waiting to be made, but now is most definitely not the time.

By his third survey of the room, Sly still hasn't spotted Rioichi, and now he's _really_ getting worried. There's no sign of a struggle, which is about the only thing stopping him from panicking. On the other hand there isn't any indication of _where_ he's gone, if he's at his restaurant or went out for a walk, or anything. Okay, he is a grown man, he is more than able to take care of himself, but Sly figures he has every reason to worry. This is kind of a life-or-death situation, and -

Oh.

Rioichi sits crosslegged on the floor, half-obscured by one chair, chin dipped against his chest. It's amazing how well he blends into the rock despite his coloration. The quietness makes sense, now; Sly recognizes that as a meditative pose. Probably best to not disturb him...

Except as he gets closer, he can see that something is... off. Rioichi isn't actually perfectly quiet, nor perfectly still. He's taking quiet, shuddering breaths, tensed from his shoulders to the tip of his tail. That in itself is worrying. As is the fact that he apparently hasn't noticed Sly's presence yet. Not even a twitch of an ear to say 'I hear you crashing around over there'.

"Rioichi?"

When he doesn't respond to that, either, Sly frowns, coming to stand beside him and leaning down to put his hand on his shoulder.

The reaction to _that_ is instant; one moment Rioichi's more or less still, the next he's whipped a dagger out of his belt. The movement continues up and forward, and Sly flings himself backward in a desperate attempt to dodge the slash aimed at his throat.

It doesn't work. Rioichi moves with him and they both topple backwards, water splashing up around them. The breath whooshes out of Sly's lungs as he hits the floor, because Rioichi may be stick-thin but he's still plenty heavy to cause breathing issues. He's also plenty strong; Sly struggles to get his legs under him to kick Rioichi off but he's having none of that, deftly twining his limbs around Sly's to keep him in place -

And then the dagger presses against Sly's neck and he goes still. For a single terrifying moment all he can think is _this is it, this is how I'm going to die_...

Something snaps Rioichi out of his sudden homicidal streak, the blank focus in his eyes abruptly switching to surprise. The dagger's pulled away as fast as it came out, vanishing back into its sheath, and Rioichi seems to retreat into himself. With a murmured, "My apologies, Sly-san," he returns to his meditative pose.

Sly belatedly realizes that not only was Rioichi's knife hand shaking, his entire body had been. What is going on?

They sit there like that for a few minutes - Rioichi apparently trying to go back to meditating, Sly slowly sitting up and trying to figure out what to do. Rioichi seems to have stopped shaking, but he's still gasping more than breathing. Something obviously isn't right, and he has to do _something_, but apparently touching is a bad idea. Maybe talking is a bad idea, too, that isn't very conducive to meditation. But that kind of reaction...

Sly shuffles closer, turning his body and raising his shoulder so his neck isn't so exposed. "Rioichi?"

There's no reaction. Sly's not sure what he was expecting. But it isn't like he can just... give up. Rioichi will push him away if he doesn't want him there. Okay, the 'attempting to stab you' would probably count as pushing away, but that seemed more like an automatic reaction than anything else. Like he wasn't entirely in control of himself.

So he tries putting his hand on Rioichi's shoulder again. _If he throws me off,_ Sly tells himself, _I'll leave him alone._

He doesn't. He actually leans into it, this time, and then farther, pressing himself into Sly's side. The shaking still hasn't stopped - he was just hiding it better. With Rioichi pressed against him, he can feel every tremor in the painfully bony body. (And that's strange, too, he'd thought Rioichi was heavier than that, not least because he'd just had the man lying on top of him - the fur and the clothing hides a lot, it seems.)

And that... Sly doesn't know what to do with that. This is way past his experience. Especially with _Rioichi Cooper_, of all people. The Thievius Raccoonus, historical records, and now Rioichi himself had always given the impression of stoicism even in the most dire of situations. He was, Sly had thought, not a man given to bouts of emotion.

Doesn't change the fact that he needs help, though. Sly remembers Murray's perpetual nervousness from years and years ago, and, well, this can't be too different, can it? So he wraps his arm around Rioichi's thin shoulders and pulls him to his chest.

Rioichi's clipped breaths pause, and then he starts taking deep, slow ones instead. There's a slight pressure on Sly's knee, and he looks down to see Rioichi's fingers tangled in the fur there, gripping but not pulling.

Bit by bit, the trembling slows, then stops.

Rioichi's calm, or as near as Sly can tell he is; his breathing is even and slow, and the tenseness has left his body. He doesn't move, and Sly isn't inclined to make him. It's sort of... comfortable like this, even if his side's cramped up from leaning just a bit too much sideways, even if his ass is half-frozen and uncomfortably damp. It's like sitting on his dad's knee, years ago, just with the positions reversed; it's like sleeping in the blanket forts with Bentley and Murray, piled on each other as much as the stolen pillows. It's... family.

Of course, Bentley and Murray choose that exact moment to return. Sly would have no problems staying right where he is, because it's them, but Rioichi apparently disagrees. One moment he's there and the next he's... not, having disentangled himself and risen to his feet in one absurdly graceful movement. By the time Bentley and Murray enter the safehouse proper, Rioichi's across the room examining the treasures scattered over the shelves, giving absolutely no indication that he'd been sitting on the floor five seconds before.

Sly, of course, still has his butt planted on the cold floor, and he's quite aware he looks rather silly. Murray kind of stares for a second before accepting it and moving on, while Bentley raises an eyebrow. Sly shakes his head, hyper-aware of Rioichi's close attention. He may be looking away, but he's got ears, he's got a brain. Explaining will have to wait until later.

Bentley shrugs and accepts it, too, launching into the details of their just-completed mission and the steps in the next phase of the plan.

Sly relocates to his chair and tries to pretend he's not rubbing circulation back into his butt. None of them buy it; Bentley's smirking the whole time he's talking, Murray keeps chuckling, and Rioichi looks distinctly amused. (And why isn't his butt frozen too? Life is just not fair.)

Then when Bentley's not looking, busy gesturing at his holoprojection, Rioichi gives Sly a short, curt nod, and Sly supposes that is the most emotional thank-you that Rioichi can give.

x-

"Sly-san."

The quiet voice makes Sly turn. Rioichi stands with his hands clasped behind his back, body half-obscured in shadow - old habits die hard, and Sly's glad he's not the only one with that particular habit. Drove Carmelita nuts, when she thought he'd had amnesia... and that was most definitely not something he needed to be thinking about right now.

"What's up, Rioichi?"

Rioichi looks up at the ceiling, first, still not used to that particular bit of slang, before giving Sly an unimpressed look. Sly grins and mutters a mostly-sincere apology. Wasn't like he'd done it on purpose, and the reaction was kind of amusing...

Rioichi's gaze slides past his shoulder, and Sly's smile fades. A glance over his shoulder reveals that Murray's there, messing with something or other on the van, and a second look at Rioichi reveals he's refocused on the exit, at which point it becomes obvious what he wants.

"Hey, Murray? Rioichi and I are going to go out for a minute. Let Bentley know whenever he emerges, will you?"

Murray looks back and forth between them, at Sly's fake cheer and Rioichi's lack of expression, and whatever people say about Murray's intelligence, he is more than perceptive enough to know this isn't something he can ask about quite yet.

"Sure, Sly. Don't take too long, you know how he gets."

"Sure thing, pal."

They step outside and Rioichi takes the lead, walking in the shadows with the assurance born of years following the same paths. Sly's no slouch at stealth, but Rioichi is undoubtedly the master. He blends apparently without effort into things he has no right to be able to blend with; every step is whisper-silent, without even a breeze to rustle leaves. Sly has absolutely no clue how he does it, and imagines he never will. So he follows and admires and hopes he ends up absorbing some tiny bit of knowledge.

(Every several steps Rioichi makes an odd flicking motion with his wrist, apparently on automatic. It takes Sly a few minutes to figure it out, and then he kicks himself for it because he does the exact same thing. It's the lack of cane where there should be one, the attempt to adjust a grip that doesn't exist. It really is a Cooper thing, then.)

They arrive at Rioichi's restaurant, and though El Jefe's guards have scattered Rioichi apparently isn't taking any chances. He climbs up to one window, Sly following, and they slip inside.

It's dark and empty, as is expected. There's also bottles of booze scattered everywhere, which is less expected but not particularly surprising. Rioichi wrinkles his nose and mutters something that Sly doesn't quite catch, but there is definitely a lot of... feeling in there. He grins. Apparently Rioichi's capable of being irritated after all.

They head into the kitchen, delicately stepping around broken glass and pottery. Sly doesn't envy Rioichi the job of cleaning all this up, and probably replacing it, too. It's going to be a while before this restaurant is producing delicacies again.

Rioichi picks up his cleaver and one of the cutting knives, and Sly tries to make it look like he isn't putting the counter between them. His last encounter with Rioichi and pointy objects is still fresh in his mind. Not that putting the counter between them will do much good, mind you, but it makes him feel slightly safer.

Rioichi ignores him, however, instead beginning to gather together cooking implements and ingredients. Sly tries to hide the disgust when he brings out the fish; he likes sushi and all, but Rioichi's sushi is definitely not the same as the sushi he's used to because it smells like a bad combination of rot and Bentley after burrito night.

(Then he notices Rioichi's making a face, too, and then he's more preoccupied with trying not to laugh than trying not to look disgusted.)

There is a certain fascination to watching Rioichi work. He approaches meal preparation the same way he approaches everything else: with precision, speed, and grace. It's mesmerizing, in a way, almost as good as the clink of coins or the weight of a priceless artifact under one's arm.

The kitchen is silent for several minutes, save for the _thok_ of Rioichi's knives against the cutting board. Sly trusts Rioichi to talk eventually, whenever he works up the courage, or figures out what he's saying, or whatever's going through his head right now. And sure enough -

"I am grateful for your presence here. You have my thanks, Sly-san."

Sly has a feeling he's not really talking about the watching him cook thing. "No problem. I'm glad to help."

"The tiger may be the most feared hunter, but it is not without its weaknesses," Rioichi continues. He appears to be focused on cutting a piece of fish; he must be trying to distract himself enough to actually say what he came here to say. Sly stays quiet this time, letting him talk. "I have honed my crafts for years but I am still subject to the imperfections of my own mind. There are times when I become... paralyzed with an unusual type of fear. I often do not know what causes these events. Sometimes they are in response to difficulties I face, but it is more common for the reasons to remain hidden from me."

And that... kind of explains that weird behaviour in the safehouse, doesn't it? And later, too, the freezing and the beginnings of panic when El Jefe stole his cane. Mystery solved, then.

"I have learned to calm myself during those times through discipline and meditation. Sometimes, it is not enough, and so I have trained myself to react defensively if disturbed."

He looks up, watching Sly from under his hood, and Sly pretty easily works out the meaning behind that, too. The whole 'trying to slit your throat' thing really had been an automatic reaction, then, which was definitely a relief. No murderous ancestors here.

"For many years I have controlled this fear alone. The path of the ninja is a solitary one." Rioichi looks back down, and... hesitates. It feels like he's forcing the words out through sheer willpower. "But many years ago, when I was a child and my father still lived, he would guide me through the fear." There's another pause, longer this time, and Sly almost says something before Rioichi's quiet voice interrupts him again. "You are very much like him, Sly-san. It is... comforting."

Rioichi falls silent and still, his expression impossible to make out. It takes Sly a second to realize he's _embarrassed_, and probably afraid he's going to be laughed at or disbelieved, too. So he reaches across the counter, taking ahold of Rioichi's wrist. Rioichi looks up, and for a moment he looks strangely... vulnerable.

"I'm glad to help," Sly murmurs, and desperately tries to figure out what to say because he hasn't the faintest clue of where he's going with this, but this is important, this is make-it-or-break-it. "I really mean that. I admire you a lot, Rioichi, and - you're family. If there's anything I can do, anything at all, just... say the word."

Rioichi studies him for several long seconds, and then he lets go of his knife and returns Sly's grasp, like they're in the middle of some kind of weird fraternity handshake or something. "Return before I die. I would like to see you again before my time comes. ...Please."

The message is clear: _I don't want you to leave me_. That hidden request, he can't fulfill that one, but the other - well, it isn't like he can refuse that, can he? Not that he'd ever want to. "Of course. I will. That's a promise."

Rioichi rewards him with a small, shy smile, and Sly grins back. Then the fact that he's leaning directly over the bit of food responsible for the stench suffusing the room really hits his nose, and Rioichi's smile turns amused.

"I do not think the career of sushi chef is in your future, Sly-san."

"No," Sly agrees, and leans back before he starts gagging. "Don't think I'm cut out for that."

With his hand freed up again, Rioichi goes back to cutting, and... and he's smirking. He is definitely smirking. "It may do you good to become used to the smell, however. This dish is a gift for Bentley-san, Murray-san, and yourself."

"...You are evil. The van's going to smell for _weeks_."

"Indeed."


	3. Sir Galleth

Struggled with this one a bit :|

Salim is next~ (Anyone have any requests/ideas for Bob? I dunno what to do with him ffff)

Also I finished Sly 4, finally, and WOW OK Sanzaru you did great asdf. I will stop myself there before I start with the incoherent flailing.

o-  
o-

If there's one thing Sly's learned about this impromptu field trip through time, it's that none of his ancestors are quite like he'd thought they were.

Take Galleth, for example.

Galleth was one of the less prominent members of the Cooper clan, because he'd never pulled off any grand heists or developed any amazing moves. This didn't mean he was unimportant.

The Knights of the Cooper Order had been Galleth's contribution to the world, and they were easily as famous as the Knights Templar. As their founder and leader, Galleth was the most famous of them all. Knights hadn't always been the chivalrous defenders they were commonly remembered as, but the Knights of the Cooper Order had changed that, until knights and chivalry were synonymous with each other. Galleth had singlehandedly changed the medieval world through his sense of fairness and compassion, and he'd accidentally solidified the Cooper Code along the way. It was said that he was such a good-hearted, level-headed, and respected man that even royalty would heed his advice.

The Galleth that is currently clanking around the rooftops, not so much.

Well. Good-hearted, maybe. But also headstrong and foolish and inattentive and Sly has no idea how he hasn't gotten himself killed yet. Forget becoming the wise man that history insists existed, he'll be lucky if he survives til next week.

"Have at, knave!"

Case in point. An owl sails past Sly's head, followed shortly after by a sword-cane swinging raccoon; Sly ducks in order to avoid getting his ears clipped. Galleth doesn't even notice his presence, which isn't surprising, seeing as he's too busy focusing on his target to notice much of anything else. Including the pair of robots bearing down on him. Sly is very tempted to sit atop the parapets and watch and maybe pull out the metaphorical popcorn. Certainly it won't actually do Galleth any good if he jumps in and helps - the guy has to learn to take care of himself sometime, and Sly is only going to be here to save his ass for two or three days, tops.

The only problem is that although Galleth may be strong and well-armored, he isn't strong enough to fight more than one person head-on. Especially not those robots; there's a bruise across Sly's back that's a testament to their strength.

"Ha! It seems you're no match for my - aah!"

The other problem with the robots is that they're scarily precise shots. Galleth's cry of pain and surprise is genuine - there's a red-hot slug of molten metal half-buried in his breastplate. He whirls to face the pair of guards anyway, brandishing both sword and cane and letting out what's probably supposed to be a warcry.

Sly sighs. Discretion is apparently not the better part of valor. Seems like it's about time he got involved. One of the guards is directly below his perch, so he focuses on that one, leaping off of the wall and landing on its back. It doesn't seem to know what to do with that, at first freezing up and then jerkily shaking in a poor attempt to dislodge its attacker. A few quick bashes with his cane and the guard topples sideways, broken or deactivated, but out for the count either way. It was nice really; as long as you were careful it was so much easier to deal with them than it was with flesh-and-blood guards.

Galleth... is not having quite so much luck. He's going for stabs instead of hitting with the flats of his blades, which can be forgiven because a month ago he had no idea that robots were a thing. Less easily forgiven is the fact that he's making no effort to change his strategy. Sly has to hand it to him, though, he's nimble for a guy wearing ten pounds of plate armor. He's not doing any damage but the guard isn't either, every one of its swings missing by a hair's breadth. This would be fine, and maybe he'd tire himself out enough so he wouldn't run off and need a babysitter to follow him, except the noise and wildly swinging lights are attracting the attention of other guards. No matter how nimble Galleth is, he isn't going to be able to dodge them all.

So Sly decides it's high time he intervened. Galleth's in the middle of parrying a swipe with his cane and stabbing with his sword when Sly makes his move, scrambling up on the guard's back. It freezes, just like the other one - definitely exploitable, that - and a good whack makes it crumple to the ground.

"Ah! I had not detected your presence, good sir!"

_'Of course you didn't,'_ Sly thinks, torn between amusement and annoyance. "Yeah, well, it's a good thing the guards didn't, either. Come on, more of them are coming, let's get out of here."

"Let them come!"

Sly sighs and hooks his cane into the back of Galleth's breastplate.

"They are no match for our - gluk!"

A good tug both shuts him up and gets him to follow, however unwillingly it is. By the time the backup arrives at the scene, the two of them are halfway up the clocktower and completely out of reach. Sly watches the guards until they give up and disperse, just in case, then turns back to Galleth. He has, miraculously, not run off. Maybe the whole idea of 'caution' is finally getting through his thick skull.

"A pity we did not stay and do battle. I have been yearning to engage a few of those miscreants with my blades since my capture."

Or not.

"Galleth, come on, you can't fight those guys head-on. You're good, but you're not that good. Leave the brawling to Murray."

"Nay, Sir Cooper! Not a brawl, but combat! Fair, armed combat!"

Sly resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I don't think they'd know fair combat if it hit them in the face."

"Even so!" Galleth sweeps his cane outwards, and Sly jumps back in order to avoid being hit with it. "For sport, then! Retaliation for the shame they forced upon me!"

Sly gives up. He's pretty sure Galleth isn't actually listening to him. He's worse than Tennessee; at least he was smart enough to know his limits and that trying to surpass them was only going to result in capture or grievous bodily harm or both. Tennessee's _cautious_ in comparison to this fool.

"Galleth," he growls, and thank god something in his voice actually makes Galleth shut up and pay attention. (And he actually looks kind of _nervous_ which feels damn good because it wasn't like the idiot reacted properly to anything else he should be careful about.)

"Ah... Sir Cooper...?"

"This isn't a game, Galleth. If you weren't wearing that armor, this would have killed you." Sly jabs at his side with his cane and Galleth flinches back, but the tip of it _tinks_ against the breastplate anyway. "You're a thief, not a knight, not right now. This is _not_ the time for pointless heroics."

"Ah, but -"

And dammit, Sly is _not_ going to stop, not going to let Galleth get a word in edgewise because he is sick and tired of babysitting the man and watching everyone else do the same. Watching _Carmelita_ do the same. "And the dragon! What were you thinking? Don't answer that, I'm pretty sure you _weren't_. Bentley's the guy who plans everything for a reason. _Listen_ to him. If Carmelita hadn't been there..."

Galleth straightens at the mention of Carmelita, puffing his chest out and tipping his chin back to look down at Sly over his nose. "I do not need a maiden to rescue me! No matter how lovely or brave she may be!"

"If Carmelita hadn't been there, you'd still be stuck in that thing's gut! Let's get one thing straight, Galleth, she's _not_ some damsel in distress that needs rescuing. She's braver and more capable than you'll _ever_ be."

"I will not tolerate such an insult to my person, Sir Cooper! You -"

"Galleth. _Shut. Up_." Sly doesn't yell, even though he kind of wants to, but his life's work involves remaining silent at all times so it comes out as a snarl instead. Galleth actually listens this time, flattening his ears backwards and ducking his head. Good.

"If you don't start being careful you're going to end up dead. You think I'm kidding? Why do you think most of your family's died so young? Do you really want to be one of them? Courage isn't running into a fight with impossible odds, it's knowing _when to back down_. I am _not_ going through all this effort to save the future just to have you decide getting shot by a guard is more important than carrying on the Cooper legacy. Do you know what the Thievius Raccoonus says about you? It says you're going to become a wise, well-respected man. Do you want to know what I think? I think you just made it all up!"

That, at least, seems to strike a chord with Galleth; he frowns and opens his mouth to say something, probably to start arguing again, so Sly barrels on, determined to get it all out.

"Because right now when I look at you I see someone who's going to get himself killed before he's thirty. You say you're a Cooper? Well, prove it! Use your damn head once in a while!"

Galleth opens his mouth again but nothing comes out, and after several seconds of silence he closes it again. Sly wonders if it's because he's actually listening and thinking before he acts, or if it's just because he doesn't know what to say.

"I would never write falsehoods in the great book", Galleth mutters, and in that moment he sounds like a petulant child.

Apparently it's the latter. Sly shakes his head and leaps from the clocktower, paraglider snapping open. Galleth can babysit himself for a while.

x-

Galleth watches them pack up after defeating the Black Knight. Penelope. Sly had never been very close to her - they'd barely talked, though he knew she'd once had a crush on him. From having a crush on him to wanting to skin him within a few years... amazing how people could change. It's still surreal, though, because they'd all trusted her. Bentley had trusted her, he'd left the Thievius Raccoonus in her care on many occasions, and for the three of them that was the highest level of trust they could offer. And now for her to have been working with Le Paradox for weeks, if not longer...

Everyone's subdued, even Galleth, and he'd only really known her as the Black Knight. Apparently he's capable of picking up on the mood of the people surrounding him after all. Sly wonders what Galleth's going to do with her. At least if he's considering having her executed he's keeping it to himself; despite what she's done Sly knows that Bentley would not take kindly to that suggestion. The man's finally using his head, it seems.

"My lady."

Carmelita's halfway in the van when Galleth speaks up; she stops and turns, and he smiles at her. She smiles back. Sly feels an uncomfortable twinge of jealousy. It's Carmelita's choice, of course, but that doesn't mean it hurts any less. She hasn't smiled at him like that for a week. It feels like it's been a lifetime. (And, okay, he's aware that's a little pathetic, but at this point Sly doesn't have much hope of ever really making amends with her. He figures he can be forgiven for already missing the easy affection they once shared.)

Galleth goes down on one knee and takes Carmelita's hand in his. She looks about as surprised as Sly feels, and a glance sideways reveals that Bentley and Murray look just as puzzled. Then Galleth kisses the back of Carmelita's hand, and Sly feels his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

"It has been an honor to know you, my lady. I hope that one day I may match your bravery." He raises his head again, and that smile... Sly realizes with a start that it isn't any kind of flirting, not really. It's friendly and honest and admiring, but it isn't flirting.

Carmelita blinks down at him, apparently at a loss for words. Something flickers over her face, briefly - confusion? Pride? - and just as Galleth's ears are starting to droop she smiles back. "It's been an honor, Sir Galleth. You're going to make someone very happy someday." The words are intended for Galleth, of course, but she glances at Sly and his stomach does an uncomfortable little flip.

Galleth beams at her and she tugs him to his feet, her smile turning wry. "Now get out there and find those knights of yours."

Galleth bows low, the feather in his helmet brushing the floorboards. "As you command, my lady."

Carmelita raises a hand to her mouth, hiding her smile, before disentangling herself from Galleth and slipping inside next to Bentley. And that's... goodbye, then. Sly glances around the safehouse one final time before heading around the side of the van to the passenger side.

"Sir Cooper."

Sly turns, one hand on the van's door handle. Galleth stands a few paces away, just out of cane-reach, with his hands clasped behind his back. Sly's not sure whether to feel triumphant or guilty about that little detail. Then he remembers Carmelita's expression and decides to go with triumphant.

Galleth swallows - he _is_ nervous about getting within Sly's attack range - and then he steps forward and sticks his hand out.

"Thank you."

Sly looks at his hand, and then his face. There's something in his expression that's never been there before. A thoughtfulness, a wisdom...

_'Maybe there's hope for him after all'_, Sly thinks, and shakes his hand.

x-

As they enter the time vortex Sly catches a glimpse of Galleth, standing alone in the empty safehouse. He looks like a knight of legend - his sword is point-down in the floor, his hands resting on its pommel, and for once he looks noble rather than over-enthusiastic. Then he ruins it by leaping into a fighting pose, waving his sword at the time vortex and snarling with comical over-exaggeration.

"Your mother was a hamster, you Cooper fiend, and your father smelt of elderberries! I spit on you!"

He looks so satisfied with himself that Sly bursts out into helpless laughter. Looks like he's still got a lot of growing up to do.


	4. Salim

...This got really, really long ahaha. Salim ended up rambling a _lot_ more than I planned him to. Speaking of, I've discovered I can't write him very well, concrit is very appreciated in that department.

Bob is next, obviously.

o-  
o-

Salim goes out for a walk. Sly goes with him.

Bentley suspects that Salim's going to go hide somewhere so he can take a nap in peace, and Sly kind of has to agree with him. And if Salim hides, they're never going to find him again. All the laziness and complaining aside, he _is_ a master thief, and he does know this place extremely well. If he doesn't want to be found, he won't be, and that's the end of it.

So Salim leaves and Sly tails him and doesn't even try to hide it. Salim is, understandably, slightly cranky about this.

"_Must_ you come with me?"

Okay, maybe more than slightly. "Yep," Sly replies, making no effort to hide his grin.

"Of course," Salim replies. "Why am I not surprised?" He looks off to the side and Sly wonders if he's going to try and make a run for it, but then he apparently decides that running is far too much effort and starts off at a comfortable walk instead.

Sly stays a pace behind him, dividing his attention between Salim and the scenery. Arabia really was quite beautiful, as long as you could stand the sand and the heat. "Why don't you show me some of your tricks?"

Salim scoffs and waves a dismissive hand over his shoulder. "Pah. I already taught my children, I don't need to teach you, too. No, I'll go find somewhere nice and shady and take a nap."

Looks like Bentley was right after all. No surprises there. "Do you really think you're going to get any sleep with me following you around?"

"I can certainly try."

Yeah, like that's going to succeed. Sly's kind of tempted to let him have his nap, but one or both of them could be called back to the safehouse at any time. Salim's just going to be even more sarcastic and irritable if he's woken up after ten minutes, so... no sleeping it is. "Suit yourself."

He receives a noncommittal grunt in reply, and tries not to grin. Operation: Annoy Salim Into Giving Up is a go.

They meander through the market for the next ten minutes. Sly wonders if Salim's trying to make him get bored or leave or something. Or maybe 'accidentally' attract the attention of the guards and create enough of a diversion to allow him to slip away. Neither of these end up happening, of course, Sly likes to think he's a _little_ better than that.

Salim doesn't show any outward signs of annoyance, though, at least not anything that might indicate ruined plans beyond 'have a nap'. Eventually he stops beside one of the larger buildings, the one with the turquoise-plated roof, and climbs up the rope hanging down its side. Sly remembers this building; that's the only way up, as far as he knows, and the guards are not exactly stellar climbers. This is probably the safest place in the city, in all honesty. Sly follows him up, and they both settle down next to the larger dome, overlooking the marketplace. Salim reclines in the sun, and Sly opts for the shade; he's already started to get light-headed in this ridiculous heat. Yeah, deserts are definitely not his thing.

Salim looks like he's going to try and sleep despite Sly's presence, so he resolves to keep him talking. Salim was just one of those people who couldn't resist replying, even if it was just some kind of sarcastic insult. Plus, as Bentley had inadvertently discovered, Salim _liked_ talking. The trick would be to make him think it was his choice to talk. "So. Children?"

"Yes," Salim replies. His eyes remain stubbornly closed. "Four of them. And all of the nieces and nephews as well."

Sly has to admit, he actually kind of wants to know, and not just in order to keep Salim awake. There was very little information in the Thievius Raccoonus for this time period... Sly knew his name and his leadership of the Forty Thieves and that was it. "Tell me about them."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I am trying to sleep," Salim replies, patiently, as though he's explaining to someone especially young or stupid. "Has all common sense left the family by your time?"

Sly decides to switch tactics. "No, I'm just trying to learn about my ancestors. Come on, if you could meet someone like Slytankhamen, wouldn't you want to know all about him?"

"I thought you were bothering me because Bentley told you I was going to run away?"

Smart man. Not that Sly could actually _say_ that, because that certainly would not go over well. "No, of course not. Seriously, think of it from my perspective. I get to meet someone I've admired all my life. Of course I want to learn from you." Flattery gets you everywhere, it's true.

Salim cracks one eye open. He doesn't look like he's buying it. "I don't really have any other options, do I?"

"No," Sly replies cheerfully.

Salim sighs and pushes himself to his feet. Cooper: 1, al-Kupar: 0. "Very well, you insufferable raccoon." He prods Sly's side with his cane, and Sly pretends to look hurt. He receives an eyeroll for his troubles. "Fine. Stories. But first, food."

"Didn't you just eat back at the safehouse?" He receives a 'what kind of idiot are you?' look for that. Sly shakes his head and chuckles. Glutton, right. "Okay, okay. Food first. Do you have a stash around here or something?"

Salim rolls his eyes again and sinks into a crouch, putting his arm around Sly's shoulders to force him down too. "No no no. See that fellow down there?" He gestures with his cane, at a tall lizard behind one of the stalls in the marketplace below. "I'll nab something from him. He's getting old, do you see how his spines droop? It should be easy."

"Isn't that kind of, you know, cruel?" The lizard isn't dressed in rags, but it's not like he's dressed in the finest silks, either. He's dusty and his scales are dull, and even if his eyes are still alert it definitely seems like a dick move to steal from the old guy.

Salim looks at him like he's nuts. Sly belatedly remembers that the Cooper Code isn't really going to exist as more than a vague suggestion for another three hundred years. Oops. "We're thieves, Sly, not charity workers. Besides, I've seen him berating his daughter-in-law for petty things. Does that make you feel better?"

Well, yes, a little, but... "Does it matter?"

Salim grins and slaps him on the back with surprising strength for an old man. "Smart boy!" He shimmies down the side of the building, finding handholds in the stone, before landing soundlessly in the sand. Sly sits crosslegged and settles in to watch.

Salim hugs the wall for a few moments, looking back and forth up the street, before shifting his grip on his cane so he's actually using it as a... well, cane. He leans heavily on it as he heads toward the stall, looking for all the world like a harmless old man out for an evening walk.

From up here it's hard to make out what he and the lizard are saying to each other, but they appear to be haggling. Salim even jabs the lizard in the chest with the end of his cane at one point, and Sly smothers his laugh. The lizard doesn't look happy about the invasion of his personal space, but the distraction works; Salim snatches a pear out from right under his nose and stashes it in his pocket.

Sly watches, entranced, as they continue to 'haggle'. Two mangoes and what looks like a plum get pocketed in rapid succession after the pear, and the lizard hasn't received a single coin yet. Come to think of it, Sly's not sure if Salim actually has any money _on_ him. Basically the only option he has is for this theft attempt to succeed, otherwise he's screwed.

Then Salim decides that stealing the lizard's wares isn't enough, he starts pickpocketing him, too. Sly's eyebrows shoot up his hairline, at that point; he's pickpocketed people from the front before, but only in desperation. It's just too easy for it to go wrong. But here Salim is, gesturing to one side of the stall and attracting the lizard's attention, then reaching around with his cane and pulling coins out of his pocket. Sly suddenly realizes he's _showing off_ - so much for not teaching any of his tricks, then.

In the end Salim throws his hands up as though he's given up, depositing a few of the lizard's own coins on the counter and stalking off with a bunch of bananas. The lizard watches him go, eyes narrowed, and Sly gets ready to jump off to come to Salim's rescue, just in case. He ends up not needing to; the lizard lets him go around the corner, even if he still looks kind of suspicious, but Salim's home free at that point. Sly waits for him to go around the building to scale the rope leading to its roof.

He doesn't have to wait long. Salim's already got the pear in his mouth, his hands being occupied with carrying his cane and the bunch of bananas. Sly tries really hard not to laugh but it doesn't work, and Salim glares at him, but of course he can't say anything because his mouth is full.

Once he's sat down again and emptied his pockets of his spoils, however, he has no such limitations. "See if I share anything with you, you ungrateful little whelp." But his expression gives him away - Sly can see a badly-hidden smile underneath his moustache.

"That was some pretty solid work."

Salim rolls his eyes and swallows his bite of pear. "I am quite sure you would not be saying that if I wasn't bringing you food." He offers Sly one of the bananas anyway.

Sly takes it and decides not to argue. Salim would just end up winning anyway, out of sheer tenacity. "So. Children?"

"You are more persistent than a bad rash, my goodness." He kicks back in a patch of sunlight, closing his eyes, and Sly wonders if he's just going to try to fall asleep anyway. "Yes, children. Four of them. My brothers and sisters had many of their own; we raised all of the little demons together."

"Tell me about them."

"Yes yes yes, I'm getting there." Salim waves one lazy hand at him. "Let me start at the beginning. Wouldn't be any good for you to interrupt me midway through, would it?" He glances at Sly, who just raises an eyebrow, settling in to listen. _That_ is one trap he isn't going to fall into.

Salim chuckles and relaxes again. "Very good, there _is_ a brain in that fluffy head of yours. Let me see... my brothers and sisters and I were born in Khabri, many many days' travel from here. My father... he was a good man, though I barely knew him. He... let's just say he was absent, shall we? It was my mother who raised the six of us. Strict woman, and she did _not_ approve of our heritage, let me tell you." He shakes his head, smiling slightly. "I quite disliked her as a child, but I know now that she did care for us very much. She simply was not... very good at showing it."

"She did not want us to leave, at first, because she knew very well what we would get up to. She couldn't put it off any longer when Abasir - the eldest - turned nineteen. She let us all go, then, because she certainly was not so foolish to think that she could let him leave but force the rest of us to remain. Even at that age we were very close. I think she knew what we were and that she could not change it, so she simply accepted it instead, even if she refused to acknowledge it. The last I heard of her, she had found a widower and settled down with him." Salim snorts. "I imagine she chased the poor man about the house with a broom all day. Peaceful retirement was certainly not something she would have been capable of!"

"So, Abasir, Isra, the twins, and I set out on our own, with nothing but a few days' rations and the clothes on our backs. I was... fifteen, I believe? - yes, the twins were twelve, I must have been fifteen. We started as bandits, which is certainly not a glamorous profession, let me tell you! The scorpions and the snakes and the _sand_... euch. I swear there was more sand in anything we ate than any sort of spice. But we were _free_." Salim spreads his arms wide, smiling up at the sky, eyes still closed. "Nothing but the desert to limit us."

Sly kind of has to smile at that; he remembers that feeling, from when he and Bentley and Murray had finally been able to leave the orphanage. It'd felt like all the world was their oyster, and not even all of Interpol could stop them. "I thought you said there were six of you?"

Salim tucks his hands behind his head again. "Ah, so you are paying attention, very good! Qamar left for the capital when our mother let us go. She wanted to continue her studies - I still think that she was not quite right in the head. Books, pah! I have had more than enough of those for my lifetime. But she did help us when we needed it, so I suppose I can't be too cruel to her."

"What happened?"

"Ah, now that is an interesting story. Slightly embarrassing, but still interesting. You see, we'd wandered that way when I was... hm, nineteen? Something like that. More people, thus more opportunities to steal from those people. But that also meant more opportunities to be caught.

Sly curls his tail around his feet, resting his chin on his knees. He feels kind of like a kid again, like he's being told stories by his father. For him the Thievius Raccoonus had been a storybook long before it had been a handbook, after all. "I'm guessing that was what happened."

"Indeed it did. We were only in Baghdad for two days before we were jailed, and not for stealing anything! No, we were accused of murdering one of the city's nobles. Now, we were not gentle, and I will admit we had killed before, but never without due reason - self-defense against other bandits, most often."

Sly has to raise an eyebrow at that. That wasn't... quite what he'd expected. Then again, the Code hadn't existed yet, so they _were_ free to do pretty much whatever they wanted, limited only by their sense of morality. He supposes Salim and his siblings could have been much, much worse.

"At any rate, we were most certainly not killers in the sense that this poor man had been killed. It was... vicious, I'm told. Someone did _not_ like the man, and as scruffy outsiders we were convenient scapegoats. We tried to escape on our own; Isra always hid lockpicks in her hair, but they all broke, and the twins tried to squeeze out between the bars but they got stuck, which was awkward yet terribly entertaining, let me tell you."

"That was when Qamar came to our rescue. You see, she may have tried to become a scholar, but she could not escape her nature any more than we could. She had been studying our history the whole time - she was as accomplished as any of us in the art of thievery."

"So did she sneak in and break you guys out?"

"Oh, no, that was not her style! I'm sure she considered it, but she didn't want us to be fugitives, not for murder at least. For that, I am very grateful." Salim pauses, then, rolling sideways to pull a small knife from a sheath hidden behind his waistband, which he promptly starts using to peel one of the mangoes.

"So, instead, she did it legally, by finding the real killers. She never did tell us the full story, or she never told me, at least, but from what I know she had to do quite a bit of sneaking about and evidence collecting to work it out, not to mention bullying some of her fellow scholars into helping her. I suspect she had to sleep with a few men to find everything she needed, and Isra never did approve of that, so I believe that's why she never told us all the details."

"It turned out that it was one of the victim's daughters, in league with another noble and his family - they were foxes, so they looked enough like the five of us from a distance. Crazy what people will do for love, isn't it? Silly girl." Salim shakes his head, popping a piece of the mango in his mouth. "But they were jailed and we were freed, in the end. Qamar teased us about being caught and we teased her about her failure at becoming a stuffy scholar and I'm sure the entire city hated us by the end of the week."

Sly chuckles. "Loud celebratory parties?"

"Like you would not believe," Salim replies, clearly savoring the memory. "There was a lot of eating. Qamar was praised heavily by the victim's family for her part in solving the crime - they threw her a banquet in thanks. As her brothers and sister, we were of course invited, but the family overlooked one thing: five half-starved youths who have eaten nothing but scorpion claws and cobra tails for the past four years are not to be taken lightly. And we al-Kupars are quite well-known for our appetites."

The bark of laughter escapes Sly before he can stop it. "Yeah, that I can believe."

"You are an absolute bundle of laughs, Sly," Salim replies, and he may sound unimpressed but his grin kind of ruins any pretense at irritation. "Anyway! That was when Abasir left. He met a girl... Rasha, I believe? She was his first wife. Lovely woman." Salim carves out another chunk of the mango. "But she died in childbirth the next year, the poor girl. Abasir was devastated. He had terrible luck with women, or I suppose his women had terrible luck. I never understood how he kept smiling afterwards... Ah, but enough of depressing things like that."

"Isra became the leader, because she was oldest and I certainly wasn't going to argue with her. She was much like your Carmelita - she could be quite terrifying when she was angry or had her mind set on something. And _that_ was the beginning of the Forty Thieves."

"Just the four of you?" Sly supposes they had to have started somewhere, but it's still odd to think of the legendary Forty Thieves once consisting of nothing more than four siblings. Siblings who weren't even out of their teens, on top of that.

"Oh, no, we made some friends in Baghdad." One side of Salim's moustache twitches up in a one-sided smile. "The Kittens, first and foremost. The three idiots we're rescuing now - that was what we called the three of them back then. Really, they were far too young to be running around with us, but Khalil and Tawfiq were getting too old to play 'scared kids distracting you from the thieves making off with your food and valuables', so we let them come. They had nothing else, besides." The fond smile widens. "After they'd been with us for a few years I told them that they could say they were al-Kupars. They had no family name, you see, they were orphans. Isra yelled at me for that, but I think she was secretly pleased. They were like little brothers to us, after all, and I know she missed mothering the twins."

Sly does kind of have to smile at that. He'd done the same for Bentley and Murray, not long after the three of them had recovered all the pages of the Thievius Raccoonus. Of course, he likes to imagine that his dad would have been openly pleased instead of yelling at him for it. Family was decided by you loved, not blood, his dad had told him once. It was just a great coincidence if your blood family was your real family, too.

"What happened to Isra?" Because Salim had always been recorded as the leader of the Thieves - he might have been lazy and a bit egotistical, but Sly can't see him stealing the credit from his sister, not after how fondly he's been talking about her.

Salim's smile turns sad. "She was caught and executed. I was... twenty-three, I believe. We tried to rob a terrible nobleman... he was as corrupt as they come. His poor servants were beaten within an inch of their lives, it was horrible to see. We were caught - Isra and I, and another fellow, his name escapes me, he left shortly after that. Ihsan or something. The others freed us, but it was too late for Isra."

"I'm sorry."

Salim shrugs, and reaches for a banana. "It was a long time ago. Besides, I do not think that she would have liked to die any other way." There's a pause as he peels the fruit, slowly for once, staring off into space as he goes through old memories. Sly waits patiently. Even if it was a long time ago, it has to be painful to remember.

He's half-finished the banana before he picks up the story again. Sly can almost see Salim shrugging off any long-buried sadness. "So, after that I was the leader. I was terrible at it - don't you dare laugh, I'm being honest!"

"Sorry. Keep going."

"Tch. Children these days. No respect for their elders." But his eyes twinkle with mirth despite the irritated tone. Sly wonders if he's ever had a chance to tell anyone any of this before. "Anyway! I am not one of those mystical 'born leaders', let me tell you. There was a lot of infighting those first few months. It did not help that we had to lay low; for the first time we had babies in our midst. Isra had given birth a few weeks before her death, and Sadaf had too. She ended up feeding both her own pup and Isra's kit, bless her. We barely scraped by for a little while, but I think after that difficult period we slowly became a true family. If nothing else we became far more tolerant of each others' shortcomings. It was much easier on me, at any rate, because I no longer had to threaten anyone into submission - well. The Kittens were terrible at that age. They thought sneaking a cobra into my tent was a wonderful prank."

The sarcasm practically oozes from Salim, and Sly winces. Short tempers combined with Salim's fear of snakes... "I bet that didn't go well."

"Yes, that would be the best way to put it. I nearly kicked them out over that. Possibly a mistake on my part, looking back on it - we were the only family they knew, after all, and I was probably the closest thing to a father they ever had. They worshipped the ground I walked on for a month after that. Very ego-boosting, let me tell you." Salim chuckles before clasping his hands to his chest and mimicking a high-pitched, youthful voice. "'Oh, please, Salim, let us stay! We will fetch you food and polish your cane for you!'" He shakes his head and puts his hands behind his head again, throwing one leg up over the other. "Very silly in all, I'm sure they would be mortified if they were to be reminded of their behaviour. But I think that was when they grew from boys into men, because they realized that there could be consequences for even the most innocent of actions, and that some things were far more important than idiotic pranks and their own pride."

Salim falls silent, staring up at the slowly darkening sky. Sly waits for him to continue, but nothing seems forthcoming, so he decides to prod him forward. "So what then?"

Salim rolls his head over to look at him and shrugs as best he can in his current pose. "So, we continued to grow, until there were forty of us. Well, I don't know if we ever numbered exactly forty, but 'the Forty Thieves' sounds much better than 'the Thieves That Number Somewhere Between Thirty and Fifty', so that's what we called ourselves. That was when the children started becoming a part of our lives. Abasir's son by Rasha was old enough to learn the family trade, if barely, and he was just the first."

"Abasir remarried while we were out travelling the sands, and Qamar had a daughter by the time we returned. Khalil married one of the Thieves, a quick-fingered little squirrel by the name of Shahira. Tawfiq never did find anyone, he stuck by Khalil's side all his life, I don't know how Shahira put up with that... Ah, but that was the beginning of our slow years. Too many children running underfoot to properly steal anything from anyone. Let me see, Abasir had a daughter by his second wife, and two sons by his third - I was not joking when I said his women were terribly unlucky, the world would be a much calmer place if we all had the ability to put past losses behind us like Abasir did. Qamar had her eldest daughter, of course, and then a son and another daughter, and Khalil had triplets, all girls, Shahira was delighted. And of course there was Isra's daughter, Thurayya. She grew into a fine thief, even if she had perhaps learned too much from Sadaf and her pup. She was awfully fond of barking for a raccoon."

Ten plus kids. Yeah, Sly can imagine how that would make thievery a tad difficult. "Big family."

"Oh, goodness, very big. It was not only all my nieces and nephews, it was the rest of the Forty Thieves as well. Some of them were barely old enough to climb, and some of the others had children of their own. Add the rest of the al-Kupar children - they all ran with us at one point or another, and I taught them all. Let me tell you, it is far more difficult than it sounds to teach a dozen excited children how to climb, especially when they prefer to climb you rather than the ropes!"

Sly kind of has to chuckle at that. The mental image of Salim with a dozen raccoons and squirrels and assorted other species clinging to him is just too funny to picture while keeping a straight face. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You said you had kids, too. Who was their mother?"

A slow smile spreads across Salim's face. _Here we go_, Sly thinks, hiding his own smile behind his knees. "Ghaliya. Ghaliya bint Abd'Batin al-Faiz, the love of my life. And I do not go about saying such things lightly! For a long time I thought I would be loveless like Tawfiq, but then I met her."

Sly's smile widens. The bite of sarcasm everpresent in Salim's voice has all but disappeared - he practically sounds like a different person. Love of his life indeed.

"She was the daughter of a noble. She made a terrible noblewoman herself, though, I have no reluctance to say that. She was much more interested in wandering the sands than finding a husband. That was how we met. We - the Forty Thieves - had actually planned on robbing her father, and she was our inside informant. We didn't know who she was at the time, but -"

"Wait a second, she robbed her own father?"

"Indeed. There was no love lost between them - the poor girl was born for a life like ours, not the life he demanded of her. He was by no means a cruel man, simply... very traditional. She was his opposite in every regard, they fought more often than not. Sometimes I think Abd'Batin was relieved to be rid of her when I asked her to come with us after we finished the job - although I think she would have invited herself along had I not offered!"

"I certainly won't lie, we did not get along at first. She was very intelligent, and a natural-born thief, but she was also very stubborn and reckless and she lacked experience, which was difficult for me to work with. I was used to people who had grown up on the streets and had stolen since they could walk, not people like her who had grown up in luxury and turned to thievery because it was the only way they felt alive."

"But I guess you worked out your differences eventually."

"Indeed." Salim starts chuckling, and he can't seem to stop. "That, too, took a long time. We fought often. Sometimes the fights involved fists or daggers - they were not pretty. Then one evening we awoke in the same tent with our clothes scattered all over the floor... to this day I don't know how that happened. I assume we were both drunk and not entirely in possession of our minds at the time. After we sobered up we decided to continue, because we _had _both been nearly celibate until then and it was about time we got some tail."

Sly breaks out into helpless snickers. Salim smirks at him.

"That was the Thieves' reaction as well, once they got over the shock. Do you know, they'd had a betting pool as to how long it would take before one of us killed the other, or I kicked her out? Rusul - the Tiger - he ended up winning, because he'd decided to place his bet on something completely off-the-wall - yes, that we ended up a couple. I will never forget the smug look on his face when he collected the pot, or Ghaliya's when she decided to take offense at it. She ended up chasing him around the camp with a sword for most of the night, but she laughed until she cried much later."

"Where is she now?"

Salim's smile fades, and Sly instantly regrets asking. He looks so _old_ all of a sudden, so _tired_... "Dead. The Owl caught her."

"The... oh." Clockwerk. Of course. Sly wonders how many of the Forty Thieves died at the talons of that monster. Then he wonders if Salim's going to suffer the same fate. He decides he doesn't want to know. "I'm sorry."

"Why? There is nothing you could have done. And besides, it was quick. He could have done much worse." Salim seems absorbed in the roof's tiles, tracing one with a fingertip as he loses himself in memories again. Sly wants to distract him, or take back what he'd asked, but he's helpless in the face of so much uncovered grief.

"It was not only Ghaliya who died that terrible night," Salim continues quietly. "He attacked as we prepared to sleep, in the early hours before the dawn... the sentries were slaughtered before they could cry out. We had never considered watching for an attack from the skies, after all." He smiles, mirthlessly, and Sly swallows thickly.

"My daughters were all killed, and Khalil's, and Shahira as well, and Sadaf and so many of the others... Fakhri and Hatim and Rafiq and Sami... and later we found out that he had attacked Abasir and Qamar and their families a week before. All I remember of those days is the red sand..."

Salim falls silent, curling into himself and staring sightlessly at the remaining mango. Sly doesn't dare move or say anything. At this point, he's pretty sure he'll let Salim go if he tries to leave. There's no way he can bring himself to stop him, not after this.

"We scattered after that," Salim continues, on autopilot. He doesn't even sound upset, really - more like emotionless. "We knew the Owl would not stop until he found us all. The twins and Afzal went west, my son and Thurayya and Rim went north - Almas and Thurayya were... are... the last of our children, the last hope of continuing our family. It's for them that the Kittens and I remained here, in the hopes of presenting an easier target, so that the Owl would not follow them. That was the true beginning of our retirement, seven months ago." He rolls onto his stomach, crossing his arms to pillow his head on them. It does a very good job of hiding his face, too.

Sly wants to ask if the distraction was a success, if the twins and the few children left and all the other survivors are still alive, but he knows that's pushing way too far. There's also every chance that Salim doesn't even know their fate. And if Sly asks, it'll confirm that he doesn't know either; at least if he keeps quiet Salim can keep hoping.

"Sly?"

"Yeah?" He looks up, and blinks; Salim's staring at him, his jaw set, looking more serious than Sly's ever seen him. The sadness is still there, but it's buried behind a wall of steel.

"Do you love Carmelita? And Bentley and Murray?"

The question is so out of left field that Sly can't even answer for the first few seconds. "I... yeah."

"Then do not be lulled into a false sense of security like I was. Protect them, even if they are capable of protecting themselves. Cherish them, because you do not know how long you have with them. Do not let your arguments push you apart, because you will regret it. Do not make the mistakes I made, I beg you."

There's no arguing with the steel in those eyes. Not that Sly ever would. "I will."

Salim nods and rolls over. Sly's left staring at his back, absorbing all he's been told. He'd never have guessed... but then, Clockwerk had always been there, since at least Slytankhamen. For a Cooper's life to not be ruined by the monster was... unlikely, to put it mildly.

Still. To have all of them die so quickly, so terribly... Sly doesn't know how Salim carries on. If the same were to happen to Bentley and Murray and Carmelita, Sly doesn't think he'd survive it with his sanity intact. And Salim had lost so much more. There's a newfound respect, alongside the horror. He'd never have thought that Salim was hiding so much pain behind the sarcasm.

At least Clockwerk was dead, even if Salim would never know it. It's a small comfort, but it's better than nothing. The magnitude of what he'd done, all the lives he'd avenged and the future Coopers he'd saved, hits Sly all at once, and he buries his face in his knees, overwhelmed with the sense of _enormity_.

They stay like that until the sun fully sets behind the dunes, and Sly starts to shiver.

It snaps him out of his thoughts - why was the desert a place of such extremes, it was ridiculous - and he leans over his prone companion.

"Salim?"

There's no response, and Sly frowns, leaning closer until he hears the quiet inhale-exhale of a deep sleep. Sly chuckles, because it looks like Salim's gotten his nap after all. Luckily, he's a scrawny little man, nearly as light as Bentley, and Sly has no problems picking him up. He almost wants to laugh; Salim doesn't so much as twitch as he props him against his shoulder, where he proceeds to start drooling like a giant baby.

As he starts back to the safehouse - getting down the rope while juggling Salim and two canes is all kinds of interesting - Sly wonders what the hell he's going to tell Bentley. Salim snuffles into his ear, and Sly decides that whatever he says, it's going to involve Salim escaping. The bruise to his own ego and the earful he'll no doubt get from Bentley is more than worth it.


	5. 1sentence

These are, obviously, prompts where each response is meant to only be a sentence long. None of them fit this criteria |D Also, not all of them fit my headcanons anymore, so they may contradict other fics or each other lul.

Contains het, slash, and what I suppose is technically incest. Nothing graphic for any of these though.

Edit July 9/13: Marked story as complete. I just have zero interest in Bob and can't seem to get his chapter written even though everything's already planned out. Maybe one day I'll finish it, but for now no Bob, sorry |D

x-  
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_**Kiss**_  
A pair of lips press against the base of Sly's ear and his first thought is _Carmelita_ but she's not here, she can't be, and he turns but the only person there is Rioichi, calmly perched on the back of a chair while he attempts to catch the fly that's been evading him for the past day. Their eyes meet and the corners of his mouth turn upwards just the slightest, and Sly wonders...

_**Hands**_  
Tennessee Kid Cooper's hands are rough and calloused and there's a strange ropy scar going over the back of the right one; they are physically the opposite of Sly's, but they have that same deft cleverness to them. He doesn't quite touch but she thinks she can feel the breeze of his motions passing over her fur, and he looks into her eyes and gives her a shit-eating grin. (And that's like Sly, too, only not, because even when he was young he'd never been so brazenly sexual. Romantic, yes, but sexual? No.) She smiles back and then steps away, and he grins wider, tipping his hat to her before melting into the shadows. They don't talk much after that. (Although he never stops flirting with her, but she can tell he's doing it purely for his own amusement. Not like Sly, who does it because he loves her reactions, loves her replies, loves _her_.)

_**Death**_  
"How long have I got?" Tennessee asks. Sly opens his mouth to reply (twelve years, you're going to get your gut slashed open with a broken bottle in a bar fight, they threw you in the river before you even died), and then closes it and shakes his head. Tennessee's keenly intelligent and far too aged eyes study him for a few moments, and then he nods and keeps walking. "Though as much."

_**Wind**_  
The wind howls past the van and far, far below the bottom of the canyon looms ever closer. Sly yells his name, and the terror oozes from every syllable. They need a solution, and they need it within the next ten seconds.  
Bentley takes a deep breath. The panic receeds, and the world slows.  
(He may not be a raccoon, but he is a Cooper. Most of the techniques may be impossible for him, but this one... this one he can do.)  
The answer appears, and the world returns to normal.  
"Sorry, Murray, but this is our only chance!"  
And they vanish from 1884.

_**Soft**_  
The Ice Age is really damn cold. Surprise surprise. The three of them bunch together for warmth inside the shattered remains of the van, wrapped in a blanket and a thick pelt that had belonged to whoever lived in the cave they've commandeered.  
Murray's the best off of the three of them, which isn't surprising; he's worried about the van, but he's confident they can fix it and get out of this mess. Sly's... alright, too busy worrying about the frigid nights and Carmelita being alone during them to calm down, and then there's the uneasiness about the fate of his ancestors and by extension his own fate. But all things considered, he's holding up admirably.  
Bentley is less alright. Cold is not kind to him, they'd figured that out years ago, and this is far worse than Canada had been. He suffers in silence for the first ten minutes, until he starts shivering and his shell rattles against the back of his wheelchair.  
Murray's the first to look up, and a look of guilt crosses his face before he reaches out and Bentley's too frozen to protest as he's lifted out of the chair. He's promptly squished in between his brothers, and Sly hisses and jerks back from the sudden sensation of cold skin against his.  
"M'sorry," Bentley mutters.  
He's too sleepy to notice it, but Sly's expression softens immediately, and Bentley suddenly finds a furry and more importantly _warm_ tail shoved into his grip. He promptly curls around it, far too out of it to care about how silly he may look, and Murray and Sly resettle around him to form a protective cocoon of warmth.  
Come morning, they're still huddled against each other. It probably says something about them that it's been years since they ran together and yet it's as comfortable as breathing.

_**Touch**_  
The change between Bob, and Tennessee and Rioichi is sudden and drastic. Sly had never noticed it when he'd been with them, but they'd shyed away from touch; Bob, on the other hand, is probably the most touchy-feely person he's ever met. As he's enthusiastically proven via several bone-crushing hugs. He hugs when he's happy, he hugs when he's upset, he hugs when he's nervous... he probably should have been nicknamed Hugs instead of Bob.

_**Comfort**_  
The corners of the photograph are beginning to wear thin from his constant handling, and Carmelita's face is fading because he keeps running his fingers over it, but Sly can't really bring himself to stop. Funny how you never know what you've got until you lose it.

_**Jealousy**_  
Murray knows he's being stupid. He knows it and he knows he should stop it but he just doesn't _care_. He sees the way Sly looks at Bob, sometimes, when he thinks no one's looking - it's an awed respect, the wonder of having met someone he's wondered about all his life. Bentley likes Bob, even if he gets kind of exasperated with him, and Carmelita is the same, except she's amused, too, and...  
Sometimes, all Murray wants to do is punch that stupid cave raccoon in the face.

_**Chocolate**_  
Bob discovers the stash of chocolate bars in the glove compartment. Predictably, he eats them. All twenty of them. And about half the wrappers before he figures out that they aren't supposed to be eaten.  
Predictably, he ends up throwing up. It is, however, in his own words, "So worth it, do you have more of these delicacies?"

_**Rain**_  
It's raining when they arrive in 1301. It rains the entire time they're there. It is England; Carmelita figures she probably should have expected it. The rain washes the grime off of Galleth's armor as she walks with him, her arm through his. He catches her looking and he smiles at her; it's strange, because it's not like Sly's, it's honest and open and innocent and nearly childlike. Carmelita smiles back and wonders what might have been if he'd been born seven hundred years later.

_**Devotion**_  
The fact that Sly had given up his thieving days, given up Bentley and Murray, given up his _family_ to be with her hits Carmelita all at once, and suddenly she's not mad at him anymore.

_**Technology**_  
They _left_ her here. They left her in 1301. In _England_. Penelope isn't sure whether to be furious or disappointed or gleeful. She'd hoped they would bring her to a prison in 2012, because that would have been easy to break out of - she probably wouldn't have even been held for long, what would they charge her with? They had no evidence of anything. But Bentley had known that, she was sure, so they left her here.  
But Bentley hadn't thought of how much damage she could do here, had he?  
It would be hard without Le Paradox's help, true. But she was confident that she could rebuild her army, and the Black Knight, with only what she had here. With the Cooper Gang gone, there wouldn't be anyone in her way except Galleth, and the man was an idiot. She could do a lot of damage to the timeline from back here.  
Problem was, she wasn't sure if she _wanted_ to. She didn't like Sly, and she'd gladly erase him from history. But if she did that, then Bentley... he'd grow up alone, and he'd probably end up in some dead-end computer repair job. That wasn't what she wanted for him, despite how much he'd hurt her, and - let's be honest, Penelope - how much she'd hurt him.  
So Galleth and the rest of the Coopers were off-limits. Didn't mean she couldn't alter the timeline in other ways. Like carving out a small kingdom for herself. Or queendom, as the case may be. All she had to do was -  
Run. Run run _run_.  
Some ancient instinct screams at her to _move_, so she does, darting underneath a smashed machine, wedging herself into the smallest gap she can fit. She holds her breath, trembling, wondering what she'd sensed. There's nothing out there, nothing to see, nothing to hear - but she could feel eyes on her, she was sure...  
And then an enormous set of talons alights soundlessly on a pipe in front of her.  
"Good evening," Clockwerk says.  
Penelope doesn't scream, but it's a close thing, and it feels like her heart's going to explode in her chest. She opens her mouth but no sounds come out, and the massive feathered head tilts slightly. Those eyes... each as big as her head, and the _hatred_ in them... it's like she's paralyzed in place. Is this what the Coopers feel like?  
"I have a proposition for you."  
She listens as Clockwerk describes his plans and her part in them, and it isn't a proposition, it's an order, and she has no choice but to obey. Her technology and his body...  
_'Oh, Bentley,'_ she thinks, _'I was such a fool.'_

_**Tears**_  
Bentley cries after losing Penelope. He tries to hide it from the others, but they're his brothers; Sly sits with him, first, and when he's out in the field Murray takes his place. They never say anything to him, nor he to them, but he's grateful for their presence.  
(And then, most surprising of all, Carmelita sits with him; she doesn't say anything either, but she smiles at him and pats his hand, and Bentley has the sudden insane urge to hug her.)

_**Smile**_  
They go back to Japan, briefly, after stopping Penelope, because Sly's beginning to wonder if he'll get another chance, and he's got a promise to keep. The time machine isn't precise; they end up in 1627 instead of 1603, but they have as many attempts as they need, so Sly goes out for a quick recon to see if he can find Rioichi now rather than forcing them to waste energy jumping around.  
It isn't hard to find him, and Sly has to smile at that because the man is a terrible ninja sometimes. The sushi restaurant is still there, still in business; Sly enters through the same window that he had... well, decades ago, from Rioichi's perspective. Only a week ago from his, and god time travel was confusing.  
It's night, so the shop is closed, and Sly tiptoes around, searching for any sort of bedrooms. Then something - some_one_ - lands on his back, flattening him to the floor and then pinning him there, kicking his cane out of his hand. Rioichi's still got it, apparently, even though he's pushing sixty by now, and Sly grins a bit before realizing that the tail barely in his view isn't Rioichi's. It's paler and monochrome and barely patterned, and it's not a raccoon's or a panda's, and cold dread settles into Sly's stomach. He struggles, manages to unbalance his attacker, but they still have him pinned, and he hears the whisper of a blade being drawn from its sheath -  
"Tomiko!"  
Sly twists, the sudden voice having distracted his attacker, and he rolls, kicking them away and darting for his cane. As soon as it's in his hands he's whirled back to face his attacker, ready to parry the blow he's sure is coming, and a pale blur darts toward him -  
"ENOUGH!"  
The pale - man, woman? Sly can't figure out which they are, can't even tell what their species is - stops in their tracks, their sword raised above their head. They're dressed in a simple, concealing robe, and their features are delicate, but not feminine; long, wavy hair falls down to their waist. When nothing happens for several seconds, Sly glances sideways.  
Rioichi stands in the doorway. Older, sure, his vibrant red fur going grey-white in places, but it's unmistakably him.  
"Father?"  
Sly looks back at the pale... person. They've lowered their blade, they're looking at Rioichi, and... Sly puts two and two together.  
"So, you're...?"  
"My daughter," Rioichi replies. His gaze is fixated on Sly; his expression is blank, and Sly suddenly starts to worry. What if he's come back too late? What if Rioichi's angry with him for taking so long...? Rioichi starts toward him, still whisper-silent even in his old age. "Sly-san," he murmurs when he's an arm's length away. "I had always hoped, but..."  
"I did promise," Sly replies.  
And Rioichi... fucking _beams_ at him, lets out a smile so brilliant it practically lights up the room, and Sly's almost too dumbfounded to grin back.

_**Moon**_  
They run together under the full moon, taking turns chasing each other, and Sly marvels at Rioichi's agility. His eyesight may be failing and his hands tremble whenever he thinks Sly isn't looking, but he's still got it; each leap is graceful and precise, and he runs across ropes like he's thirty again.  
Rioichi snags his hand and Sly yelps because he had _not_ been that close two seconds ago (those damn dragon leaps, how does he _do_ that?). He half-turns and tenses, ready to jump after Rioichi, but... he's not going anywhere. He leans forward, instead, and Sly realizes their fingers are still lightly entwined. Rioichi presses his nose into the base of Sly's ear - not quite a kiss, but it's close, and a half-forgotten memory from a week ago resurfaces. Sly stares. Rioichi smiles.  
Then he leaps away, and Sly continues to stare after him. Then he kind of has to laugh because he's done the _exact_ same thing to Carmelita how many times now? Talk about being beaten at his own game.  
Sly jumps after him, and the chase continues.

_**Bonds**_  
When Sly and Murray bring the Tiger back to the safehouse, Salim immediately heads for him and kneels in front of him, running his hands over his shoulders, down his sides, gently easing the collar off of his neck.  
"Rusul," Salim murmurs.  
The Tiger rolls his eyes but he smiles and pats Salim's shoulder. "I am fine, you silly worrywart."  
Sly hides his smile and leaves them to it.

_**Weakness**_  
There is a crash and a muffled curse from the safehouse's main room, and Sly is on his feet almost before he's fully awake. Funny how old habits came back so fast, wasn't it? - and of course none of the others had woken up, though Carmelita twitches an ear before rolling over. (And god, it was still strange to sleep in seperate places, to wake up and not be able to brush the hair from her face.)  
Salim isn't here.  
Sly feels a twinge of dread. The man loved sleeping, something must have happened... had he heard something, gone to investigate, ended up caught? (And really he has _got_ to stop automatically assuming the worst when it comes to his ancestors but it's kind of hard not to.)  
There is, however, no use in standing there and hoping the answers will magically arrive, so Sly picks up his cane and pads out into the main room. The sunlight filters down through the cave's opening, though weakly, since it's sometime in the morning and the sun's on the wrong side of the entrance right now. It is, however, just enough to see the silhouette of Salim, crouched on the floor, attempting to... sweep something up? Well, that explains the crash. It doesn't explain what he's doing up in the first place, however.  
"Salim," Sly whispers, stepping closer. "What the hell...?"  
Salim jumps and drops whatever he's sweeping, which prompts him to swear again. "Sly. Thank you so very much for giving me a heart attack. Very appreciated at my age."  
Sly rolls his eyes, by now more than used to Salim's... prickliness. "What happened?"  
"Are you blind? I'm making sure none of us are going to receive the gift of glass shards in our feet by tomorrow, what do you think I'm doing?"  
"No, I mean why are you awake?"  
Salim stops. He actually just... stops, freezes up completely from eartip to tailtip. "Nature called."  
Sly's tempted to just take that explanation and leave it, because he is far too tired to engage in verbal jousting with Salim, but his conscience demands that he try to get the actual answer. "Really."  
"Yes. What are you, my mother?" Salim sighs and straightens up, folding his arms. His tail flicks behind him, quick and jerky.  
Okay, maybe pressing it was a bad idea. "Alright. I'm going back to bed, then. Hammock, whatever." He turns to leave, one ear pointed back to try and hear any reaction Salim might have. At first he's pretty sure there's going to be nothing, but then there's a muted sigh...  
"I couldn't sleep, alright? So I was going to go for a walk."  
Sly turns around and frowns. Salim no longer looks hostile, or defensive, more like... completely exhausted. He's rubbing his face with one hand, the other on the table to help keep him upright, and his entire posture is lax, from his dipped head to droopy tail. Something is definitely going on here... "Are you okay?"  
There's a long pause. "...No."  
Sly realizes that something is very wrong indeed. "Do you... do you want to talk about it?" He steps forward, hesitantly, not entirely sure what he should be doing right now. If it were Carmelita or Bentley or Murray, sure, but Salim was just too much of an unknown.  
Salim shakes his head, and then promptly contradicts himself. "Yes. Maybe it would help."  
Sly puts his hand on Salim's shoulder, and when he isn't thrown off he presses down, guiding him away from the table and over to where the van rests in its niche. The broken whatever it is can wait.  
They both sit down, Salim hunching over and continuing to rub at his face, Sly keeping his hand resting on Salim's shoulder. He doesn't seem to be reacting to the contact, but it doesn't seem to be hurting anything, either; maybe he's like Carmelita and won't outwardly show just how much it helps.  
"I can't sleep," Salim mutters. "Not just today. For months. I get an hour or two and then I wake up. Every time, there is a dream. Screaming, panic. Then the wings, blocking out the stars..."  
Sly winces. He knows very well where this is going, because he'd dreamed the same thing for years. Woken up screaming from the nightmares more than once, in fact, and managed to thoroughly terrify Bentley and Murray. That had not been a fun time.  
"I can't move. Ghaliya turns to me, and she..." Salim takes a deep breath. It's probably supposed to be calming, but it isn't working; Sly can feel him trembling. "She's torn open, but she isn't dead, and she asks why I didn't protect her, or anyone. The sand is so red..."  
Salim takes another deep breath, but this one is shuddering, and Sly suddenly becomes acutely aware that he's crying. Sly's at a loss as to what he should do, because comfort isn't really his strong suit, especially not with someone he barely knows. So he puts his arm around Salim's shoulders and waits quietly for him to ride it out.  
"Please," Salim murmurs, and his voice is remarkably even. "Tell me stories of your time. Happy ones. Remind me that there is a point to all this."  
But the timeline, Sly thinks, and then he realizes it doesn't really matter. Salim doesn't have long. It hurts to think it, but he doesn't. Even if he weren't currently acting as bait to Clockwerk, he is somewhere in his sixties, and for 1001 AD that is rather old indeed. And besides, he hadn't even told any of the thieves they'd rescued what exactly was going on, and they went back a long, long ways. If he could keep it secret from them, he could keep it secret from anyone.  
"Alright," Sly murmurs back. "I guess I'll start at the beginning. I met Bentley and Murray when I was eight, and we pulled our first heist when I was nine: stealing cookies from the headmistress of the orphanage..."

_**Hell**_  
A week and a half later, Bentley returns. Penelope has never been so glad to see him in her life.  
She's the one to come to him, and she calmly lets Inspector Fox slap the cuffs on her. If it's a choice between the hell of the last week and a prison in 2012, she'll gladly take the prison. Her willingness to go confuses him, she can tell; as far as he knows she's been dodging Galleth and trying to rebuild her army. She'd have no reason to be caught, from his perspective.  
(He hasn't noticed the three rips in her suit yet, from when she'd forgotten herself and talked back to Clockwerk, and he'd snatched her up in his enormous talons. She's not sure if she wants him to notice them.)  
She doesn't try to talk to him, and he doesn't try to talk to her, and she's okay with that. Still, in that moment she loves him more than she ever has because he's saved her _again_, even if he doesn't know it. It makes her wonder if she should try and fix what she's done, if she should tell him - about the work she's been forced to do, about who's been forcing her to do it, about the blueprints sitting on a table back in her workshop.  
And then she thinks: no. The timeline's come full circle. If he tries to change it now, he'll erase everything. This is one secret she'll have to carry with her to the grave.  
Bentley glances back at her. She can only meet his gaze for a few moments before dropping it. He's never looked so cold, but then she can't blame him. If only he'd seen it her way... but if he'd seen it her way, none of this would have happened. Not the Cooper Vault job, not their relationship, not anything. Funny how things work out.  
"I'm sorry," she murmurs, quietly enough that Murray and Inspector Fox can't hear her. She's not talking about siding with Le Paradox.  
Bentley looks away. Penelope wonders if she's traded one hell for another.


End file.
